Round 10 Transcript

Jeane Cromwell leads the way into the dark tunnel, her eyes adjusting to the gloom with the potion of darkness vision. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and decay. As she moves forward, the scuttling grows louder still, echoing off the stone walls in a maddening cacophony. Suddenly, the ground beneath Merrin's feet gives a sickening lurch, and she stumbles. A section of the tunnel wall begins to slide open, revealing a hidden chamber filled with a noxious green mist. Tentacled horrors writhe and twist in the depths of the room, their eyes glowing with malevolent intent. Halie gasps, her hand tightening on the symbol at her throat. "It's a trap!" she cries, but it's too late. The horrors sense their presence, and they begin to rise, their tentacles snaking towards the party like living whips.

Jeane's wings snap tight against her back as she whirls around at Halie's cry, her crimson eyes blazing in the dim light of the tunnel. The tentacled horrors surge forward from the hidden chamber, their movements fluid and terrifyingly fast. She has maybe two seconds to react. "Back!" Jeane barks, already drawing power. "Merrin, with me! Seraphine, fall back—now!" Her fingers weave a complex pattern as she chants in Infernal, the syllables coming smooth and fast despite her pounding heart. The air around her crackles with arcane energy, responding to her command. But the tentacles are already upon them. One whips out towards Merrin, and Jeane doesn't think—just moves. She interposes herself between the rogue and the horror, her free hand coming up in a clawed gesture as she completes the incantation for a blast of eldritch energy. The spell explodes from her palm in a torrent of dark purple fire, striking the tentacle head-on. It sizzles and recoils, but doesn't disintegrate like it should have against lesser abominations. Instead, it seems to absorb the energy, pulsing with renewed malevolence as it readies another strike. Jeane's eyes narrow, a cold fury settling over her. These things aren't just beasts—they're vessels for some greater corruption, channeling power that shouldn't exist in this world. Her potion-enhanced vision allows her to see the sickly green aura clinging to them like a second skin. "Halie!" she snarls, never taking her eyes off the tentacles. "Your symbol—use it! We need every edge we can get against these things!"

She takes a step forward, wings half-extended as if ready to take flight despite the cramped quarters of the tunnel. Her dagger is in her other hand now, grip tight and point aimed directly at the nearest horror. "Merrin!" Jeane calls out, voice sharp but controlled. "Flank right—watch for more appearing from side passages! These things are feeding on something deeper!"

The scratching below intensifies, almost deafening now, as if whatever's in the depths is responding to their presence or the unleashing of power. Jeane feels a chill run down her spine that has nothing to do with the cold air. "Whatever you're planning—do it fast!" she shouts, already moving forward into the fray, dagger held low and ready to strike upward into any soft underbelly these creatures might have. "We don't survive this if we let them surround us!"

She launches herself at the lead tentacle, wings giving her just enough lift to get inside its reach before it can whip again. The blade slices through one of the appendages with a wet tearing sound, black ichor spraying across the stone floor. But even as she lands, another two tentacles come snaking around from different angles, and Jeane knows—this is going to be close. Too close for comfort.

Merrin's heart pounds as Jeane calls out to her. She doesn't hesitate—she knows the sorcerer is right, they need to move fast and smart if they want to survive this. Merrin dodges to the right, her keen eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of more hidden chambers or secret passages. The air is thick with the stench of the tentacled horrors, a noxious miasma that burns her nostrils and makes her head swim. She catches a flash of movement in the corner of her eye—a third tentacle, whipping out from behind a cracked stone pillar. Merrin curses under her breath and rolls to the side, barely avoiding its grasping reach. Her hand goes to the dagger at her belt, fingers curling around the hilt as she brings it up in a defensive posture. "More coming in from the right!" she shouts, her voice echoing off the stone walls. "Watch your back, Jeane!"

The sorcerer is already engaged with two of the horrors, her wings beating furiously as she tries to keep them at bay. Merrin sees Halie and Seraphine falling back towards the entrance of the tunnel, their faces etched with fear and determination. Halie's symbol is glowing brighter now, pulsing in time with the sickly green light of the glyphs on the walls. Merrin takes a deep breath, steeling herself for what she knows must come next. These things—they're not just beasts. They're vessels for some greater corruption, channeling power that shouldn't exist in this world. She can feel it seeping into everything around them, like a poison in the air. She launches herself at the tentacle that nearly got her before, her dagger flashing in the dim light. The blade sinks deep into the fleshy appendage, black ichor splattering across Merrin's face and hands. She grimaces, the foulness of it burning her skin like acid. "Halie!" she shouts, even as she continues to parry and strike at the tentacles. "Your symbol—it's our best hope against this! Use it!"

Merrin feels a cold certainty settling over her. They're not going to survive this unless they work together, using every skill and spell at their disposal. And even then—she knows the odds are stacked heavily against them. But as she fights, Merrin feels a flicker of something else— determination, maybe even a touch of grim glee. She's faced worse than this before, and lived to tell the tale. These horrors may be powerful, but they've got no idea what they're up against in her and her party. She ducks under another whipping tentacle, her dagger flashing out to sever it at the base. "That's right," she mutters, almost to herself. "Come and get me, you ugly bastards. Let's see what you're really made of!"

Merrin's eyes scan the shadows, looking for any sign of where the next attack might come from. Her heart pounds in her chest, adrenaline surging through her veins. She knows they're in for the fight of their lives—but she also knows they've got a chance. As long as they stick together.

The air grows colder still as we step into the darkness of the tunnel. I clutch my silver holy symbol tighter, feeling its energy pulse weakly against my palm—barely a heartbeat now compared to its usual steady rhythm. The scratching below intensifies until it sounds like a thousand claws against stone, growing closer with each passing second. This place is wrong—everything feels off, corrupted somehow. When Jeane calls out the warning about more creatures in side passages, I spin around, eyes straining in the gloom. "Wait!" I shout, holding up my free hand. "I need a moment—something's not right here." My gut screams at me that we're walking into a trap, but I can't put my finger on why. The glyphs on the walls—they're pulsing faster now, their sickly green light seeming to feed on our presence. The air itself feels thick and resistant, like wading through quicksand. "We need to stop—something's feeding on us," I mutter, more to myself than anyone else. This tower... it's alive somehow, in a way that makes my skin crawl.

I feel it too—the wrongness pressing down on us like a physical weight. Halie’s right, this place is alive in the worst possible way. The scratching intensifies, a thousand claws scraping against stone, echoing off the walls and seeming to come from everywhere at once. I take a sharp breath, my fingers twitching towards the spellbook at my belt before I stop myself. No—we need more than just magic to survive this. "Something is feeding on our life force," I call out over the din, my voice strained with effort. "Those glyphs—they're drawing it in."
My gaze darts around the room, searching for any sign of what might be happening. The air itself seems to be thick with a malevolent energy, and I can feel it seeping into my skin, chilling me to the bone. This isn't just a dungeon—it's a trap designed by someone or something far more powerful than we could have imagined. "We need to get out of here," I shout, trying to be heard over the cacophony of sound. "Now!"